She pours coffee with her left hand
Sets the silver with her right
Her apron fits a little big,
Her blouse splendidly tight.
Like an arrow from a quiver
She draws a pencil from her hair,
Saying, "may I take your order?"
But all I can do is stare
Then I mumble, "jus sa coffee.."
And she pours it lookin' up
And now my heart has runnith over
But not my coffee cup.
I've another and another
Each empty cup's an invitation
But she replies with only coffee,
Rarely words or conversation.
Now my bloods begun to percolate;
I've become a nervous wreck.
There's a tingling sensation,
With perspiration at my neck,
And when I finally grow the nerve to speak
I only ask her for the check.
And that's why I'm dining alone.